


Before I Sleep

by Destina



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-10
Updated: 2012-10-10
Packaged: 2017-11-16 01:11:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destina/pseuds/Destina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin can't get the images out of his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before I Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: 5x01 spoilers. This is a tiny missing scene from the episode. Established relationship (Merlin/Arthur) and infidelity (Arthur/Gwen).

Merlin watched the fire late into the evening, feeding it brittle wood to appease its appetite, and tried to find clarity for the details of his vision in the bright sparks. If he had only had some idea of what he was going to see - how it would _feel_ to have his heart knotted in his chest - he would have paid closer attention. Even now, a haze was descending over the battlefield yet-to-be, in his mind. He could see only Arthur's stunned expression as he fell to his knees. In some hideous future, Arthur was dying because Merlin was too slow, too careless, too far away to save him. 

The man who would take Arthur's life seemed familiar to Merlin, much the way figures from his dreams sometimes took shape in the real world, fragments of their faces reassembled from shadows. But it was the killer's pale green eyes which stayed with Merlin most of all, cold and consuming, like the rolling sea in a storm. 

Other details captured him, and he stored them away for later research if by some miracle they all survived Ismere. Two red snakes entwined on dark armour stood out plainly in his memory. Arthur's killer stood defiant in a landscape Merlin was sure he'd never seen. So many of Camelot's finest were fallen, and Arthur wavered on his knees as battle cries rained down around him. And the fire, oh, the _fire_ , black smoke of a burning Camelot, rising up against a screaming sky. 

"Have you been sitting there all night?" 

Merlin jerked sideways and nearly fell from the bench, startled to see Arthur sitting at the edge of the bed, sleep-tousled and rumpled, and still in his clothes. He'd forgotten to rouse Arthur from his doze, forgotten to undress him and fuss him beneath the coverlet. In truth, he had been reliving the moment Arthur fell to his knees for so many hours, the sight of him whole and alive nearly brought tears to his eyes. 

Arthur's expression changed, and alarm flitted across his features. "Merlin?"

"It's nothing, I...only that we're in a strange place, and I didn't want you far from my sight." It seemed to be a day for truths, and the words tumbled out before he gave them any thought. 

Arthur blinked, and stared at him for a moment. "Right, then. I'm far too tired to attempt to decipher your ridiculous nattering, so that'll have to wait until morning. Come away from the fire; come to bed." He pulled his tunic off and tossed it aside. 

"No, I-" Merlin stood up, knocking the bench over in his haste, which only made Arthur roll his eyes. "I've a perfectly good pallet downstairs in the great hall, I-"

"I thought you didn't want me far from your sight?" Arthur gave him a bleary smile, and flopped back on the bed to strip off his breeches. A moment later he had flung them in the same general direction as the tunic, and was burrowing beneath the bedcovers like some sort of rooting animal, complete with grunts and snuffles. It brought a tiny smile to Merlin's face. He stood still for a long moment, contemplating the promise of a good night's sleep with Arthur within arm's reach. 

"Merlin," Arthur said impatiently, his voice low and muffled by his pillow. He lifted his head to give Merlin one more long look, examining him head to toe. "Come to bed, or go down to the great hall, if you wish. Either way, stop hovering like some demented nursemaid, I beg of you." 

Slowly, Merlin untied the knot of his neckerchief and set it aside, then unbuckled and kicked off his boots. It had been some time since he had shared Arthur's bed. Arthur's marriage to Gwen had made whatever was between him and Merlin all the sharper in those infrequent moments when they touched one another as more than king and servant. They found each other in Arthur's tent after battles and border skirmishes, the heat of desire brought to life by victory and joy, and sometimes - only sometimes - during ordinary days, when the pull of affection for one another was simply too great to ignore. 

The rest of the time, Merlin was content to stand by, to advise from the shadows, to have whatever of Arthur's was his to have. Arthur was his to protect, and the idea that he could fail, that Merlin would somehow miss all the signs, made his fingers tremble as he stripped off his shirts and tunic. 

There was no question Gwen knew about this silent arrangement. Arthur kept nothing from her, and would not dream of hurting her. Merlin knew there were times she had slipped away in the evening, claiming exhaustion and leaving them to each other in such a deliberate way there was no mistaking her intent. She seemed not to begrudge this strange need to either of them, and Merlin tormented himself with his own deep shame - even if Gwen did mind more than he imagined, he was not entirely certain he could draw away. He and Arthur were too entwined, now, bound to each other in ways not visible to the eye. 

The image of red snakes twined flashed in his mind's eye, and he swallowed hard against the bile in his throat. It must not happen. Somehow, he must prevent it. There would be a way; he _would_ find it. 

The sheets were icy cold, in comparison to his seat so near the fire, but Arthur slid closer and wrapped his arms around Merlin, tensing as he eased Merlin's body near. "You're shivering head to toe," he murmured. "Only you could sit next to a fire for hours and come away shivering."

"Yes, well," Merlin said, aware it was not any kind of answer. He tucked his face against Arthur's shoulder and pressed the palm of his hand flat against Arthur's back, where he could feel Arthur's heartbeat, strong and steady. He took a slow, hitching breath. 

Arthur buried his nose in Merlin's hair, stroking down his arm gently. When he spoke, his voice was soft, cajoling. "What ghosts are haunting you, Merlin? I see it in your eyes, this strange grief. Who is it you mourn? That old man in the cave?"

"No one," Merlin said, shaking his head, though his heart threatened to burst out of his chest. 

"How will I teach you to accept death like a warrior? I've told you before that no man is worth your tears." Arthur brushed his lips across Merlin's cheek. 

Words deserted Merlin entirely, all his arguments to the contrary bound up in secrets and futures that might not come to pass. Instead of arguing, he tipped his head up, and Arthur met him with a kiss, slow and searching, as if in this way he could uncover all the secrets Merlin desperately wanted him to find. There was a part of him that craved discovery now, so that he might openly stand at Arthur's side and destroy anyone who dared threaten him - anyone who challenged Camelot's hard-won peace. But Arthur was quite capable of defending his own kingdom; he would never welcome that from Merlin. 

Instead Arthur welcomed Merlin's lips against his own, Merlin's touch against his bare skin and returned it gently. What Arthur felt for him, Merlin knew without question, though it would ever remain unspoken. They moved together, unhurried, and Merlin relished the strength of his living, beautiful king coming undone in his hands, at his will. With his body, Arthur created a boundary no evil thing could cross. 

When they were both spent, and Merlin's shivering had eased into drowsy contentment, Arthur raised his head and tilted Merlin's chin toward him. "Whatever we face, we face together, and we will prevail," he said, with the assured confidence of a man who had beaten every weapon fate had thrown at him thus far. 

The fire sent up a shower of sparks, and then settled back into its own ashes. Merlin kissed Arthur again, and tried to believe that no man's fate was set in stone. Fate was not the same as destiny, and thus it could be set aside, in favor of a brighter path. 

Merlin watched the firelight reflected in Arthur's eyes, and willed it to be so.


End file.
